Second album proper from Nottingham vets Blind Eye is a no messing blast of hardcore rippers that scarcely pauses to catch its breath. Urgent rhythms, sharp edged guitar, and enjoyably angry vocals, it’ll get your blood pumping and have you jumping about wanting to smash stuff. ‘The system’ mostly. As a title, Mistrust Your Nation probably doesn’t require a whole lot of explanation regarding the very dim view being taken of the general state of things.
I was a bit slow on Blind Eye. Their label, Wrong Speed, has a ‘no genres’ policy and a lot of the releases blur the edges, so when they do something that’s direct and unmistakable it’s mildly confusing. Although they work in a longstanding style Blind Eye keep the fire burning hot, shaking things up enough to keep attention from flagging. So of course there’s much airing of grievances, three songs with slightly accusatory questions for titles, one of which rhymes oligarchy with plutocracy, and tunes that switch between full on ragers and mid-tempo chuggers. It’s a lot of fun and it doesn’t hurt that it really sounds great, crisp and clear.
‘Blitz Can’ is a real firestarter, a channeling of that fury and an invocation to “rise above”. ‘What is Your Line?’ starts with a slow ‘n’ heavy riff and features a nice downshift of pace at its centre while on ‘Tin Blankets’ they really hit the accelerator and tear through it. ‘Darts, Cards, Bingo’ is another flat out ripper, the title making for a wryly amusing chorus chant. The album’s title comes from the juggernaut ‘Red State’ which tips off Anmarie Spaziano’s American origins, although with the UK effectively a vassal state it’s not as if the concerns are so different. On ‘Twisted Ways’ she tears down a shitty acquaintance. The closing ‘Who’s in Control?’ romps along before shifting to a more monolithic section finally kicking back into its swing with an added viciousness.
Listening to Mistrust Your Nation you might wonder about the persistence of punk rock fury, about what it might achieve, how this team are old hands, possibly shouting into the void. In cynically transactional terms angry punk in pub back rooms may seem a limited pursuit, even a middle aged indulgence. It doesn’t get tangible results in terms of policy outcomes. But hardcore is strong amongst the youth too, who are learning it does something else, shapes identity, offers a home, builds community. The loose lines of its broadest tent nourish in a way that keeps older heads like Blind Eye still at it. They know the power it holds, or can. Venting frustration and disappointment at the world and how hard human beings make life for one another, that’s what this stuff was made for, rage on.
